


Up Close and Personal

by singingwithoutwords



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, Gen, Hair care, Heartbeat, Kink Meme, Massage, Platonic Cuddling, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, nonsexual intimacy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:24:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingwithoutwords/pseuds/singingwithoutwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt is an annoying little shit with a habit of knowing just what people need to relax, and then giving it to them.  No one's willing to admit it, but the Shatterdome would probably spontaneously implode without him around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mako

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a [request on the PR kink meme](http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/2747.html?thread=4307643#t4307643) for Newt and nonsexual intimacy.

“Hey, kiddo- you're looking a little ragged.”

Mako looked up with a frown. She didn't like to be called things like 'kiddo' by adults. She respected Doctor Geiszler for his work, but didn't know him well enough to accept nicknames from him.

“Ragged?” she repeated neutrally.

“Not your clothes,” Doctor Geiszler said, dropping onto the bench next to her. “That uniform looks snazzy, in fact. Very professional, I'm probably risking life and limb over here, I'm talking about your hair.”

Mako reached up without meaning to, smoothing down her bangs. She had been busy, and cutting and dyeing her hair had been secondary to preparing for the move to Hong Kong, and then all her work in the Shatterdome was too important to put aside.

“Come on,” he said, poking her shoulder. Any other person, she would have reprimanded. Doctor Geiszler... she would let it pass. Once. “I've got time, you've got time- let's take care of that.”

“It's not important,” Mako said. “I am studying.”

“You don't need to study,” he said, laughing. “I've seen your scores, kiddo, you can take an hour to get your hair done.”

“I have no spare money for it.”

“I wouldn't make you pay me.”

“You can style hair?” Mako asked, surprised.

“Yeah. Come on, you can do your unnecessary studying while the dye sets. Incredible women should look as awesome as they feel.”

Mako couldn't help but smile. “I believe the word for that is 'cheesy'.”

“Got you to smile, didn't it?” he challenged, grinning. “You have the dye, or do I need to mix it up?”

Mako closed her book, standing. “I have the dye.”

“Go get it and meet me in the lab,” he said, standing. “I promise no Kaiju guts.”

It wasn't far to her room, and the little bottle of hair dye was right where she'd left it. She collected the bottle and made her way to the K-Science lab.

True to his word, there were no Kaiju guts- just a small table and a chair, and Doctor Geiszler.

“Take a seat,” he said, patting the back of the chair. She sat, holding out the bottle of dye, which he took. “Thank you, Miss.”

Mako settled back in the chair and closed her eyes.

“I'm gonna comb your hair first,” he said, and she heard a click behind her. “That means I'm gonna get it wet, so don't go all crazy ninja martial artist on me when I start, okay?”

“Okay,” Mako said, smiling.

Sitting still with water misting on her, the gentle scrape of a comb across her scalp, felt... good. Peaceful. A small luxury, one she didn't have to feel guilty about.

“I love your hair,” Doctor Geiszler said, after a few minutes of combing in silence. “Seriously, it's amazing.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“Please, call me Newt. I'm gonna start cutting now, that okay?”

“Yes,” Mako said, unaccountably pleased that he had thought to tell her beforehand.

“Awesome,” Doctor- _Newt_ said, and she heard the first faint _shnck_ of the shears by her chin. “There we go. We'll get this edge nice and crisp, redo the dye job, have your hair matching your pretty face.”

Mako laughed quietly. “I have broken arms for men who say things like that,” she told him.

“Yeah, but I'm your hairdresser, so I'm allowed,” he replied easily, running his fingers through her hair. “How's that feel?”

“Very good.”

“Good. Just about done with the cutting here. Your butt's not falling asleep, is it?”

Mako laughed again, louder. “No.”

“Aaand... there.” He set the shears down with a click of metal on metal and picked up something else. “Okay, time to paint your tips.”

The crinkle of foil and the soft brush of rough fingers that smelled of sharp disinfectant and a thin cover of flower-scented soap against her jaw, and she only relaxed more. She felt loose and boneless like she hadn't for... for years. So long, always just a bit tense, and now it was gone.

“Don't fall asleep on me,” Newt joked. “You'll fall over and I'll try to catch you and you'll break my nose. I need my nose, it keeps my glasses on.”

“I won't,” she promised, opening her eyes. He was smiling widely, so she smiled back.

He set aside the brush and dye, hooking another chair with his foot and pulling it close so he could sit. “You didn't bring your study stuff.”

“The Dome will not fall down if I do not study,” Mako said.

“Are you sure? I think it might. Maybe we should evacuate.”

She kicked him. Very lightly, more a tap with the toe of her boot than an actual kick. He rolled away with a laugh, and she laughed, too, and they spent 20 minutes talking of meaningless little things that Mako never had anyone to talk about with.

He washed the excess dye from her hair, dried and combed it for her, presented her with a mirror so she could check his work.

He walked her back to her room, then to the bay so she could continue studying. With her hair neatly trimmed and the lines of her tips crisp and bright, she had to admit she did feel awesome.

Mako sat back down on 'her' bench, left empty in her absence, and looked up at Newt. “The dye should be renewed every few weeks,” she said, testing his waters.

“Then come see me in a few weeks,” Newt said. “In fact, I'll be hurt if you go and let someone else do your hair. Seriously, I'm your hairdresser now- don't you forget it.”

Mako lowered her eyes in mock contrition and nodded, smiling.

“Great. You get back to studying, I need to clean up the hair on the floor before Hermann completely flips out on me. See you later!”

Mako opened her book and found her place, facing the work ahead with renewed energy and focus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allowing someone to cut your hair can be an intensely personal thing, and a big display of trust. You're letting someone near your throat with what's essentially a pair of very sharp knives nailed together at one end, after all.
> 
> It can also double as a scalp massage, if the person doing the cutting is careful.


	2. Stacker

“Hey, Marshal, you free tonight?”

Stacker glanced up from the report in his hand. Doctor Geiszler, customary grin in place, slipped into the small empty space next to Stacker, obviously making some effort to keep up with his longer strides. Stacker slowed his own steps slightly out of habit.

“No. I'll be leaving the Dome tonight.”

Geiszler sighed, following Stacker on the route to his office. “I was afraid of that. I guess that means you won't be around at our usual time?”

“Correct,” Stacker said, stepping into his office and leaving the door open behind him. “I'm sorry.”

“Nah, don't apologize,” Geiszler said, waving a hand dismissively. “Tell you what, see if you can clear a spot before you leave for me. Trust me, you wanna try the stuff I found, it's gonna blow your mind.”

“Doctor, there are times I think you deliberately try to make it sound as if you were my dealer,” Stacker said, sitting down at his desk.

“What? No! Dude, I would _never_ do that!” Geiszler protested. “Y'know, not where other people could _hear_ me.”

Stacker smiled, mentally reviewing everything he needed to do before he left. “I can manage an hour or so now, if you give me time to run an errand first.”

“Got it, Marshal. Meet you in your room.”

Geiszler all but bounced out of the office, leaving Stacker to his work for the moment. He finished it in short order, because Geiszler would just come back and drag him to his room if he made the man wait, then stopped by LOCCENT and left a few tasks with Choi.

“Newt?” Choi guessed, smiling when Stacker nodded. “You ever gonna tell me what it is he does for you?”

“You first,” Stacker said, as he always did when Geiszler came up in their conversations. Half the Shatterdome probably spent time with him, and most would take whatever activity he indulged them in to the grave. The Kaidanovskys were open about it, and Mako fair _bragged_ about it, but people like Choi and Stacker found it too personal to share.

“Fair enough. See you later, sir,” Choi said, shrugging, and turned his attention back to work.

Stacker returned to his room to find it still locked, but not empty. Geiszler had let himself in and cleared off the small table, replacing the stack of reports with a bone china tea set. Old, chipped, the delicate pattern faded completely in places, but a full set nonetheless, and fragrant steam rose in a cloud from the teapot, smelling faintly of ginger.

“Hey,” Geiszler greeted him, pulling out the room's only chair for Stacker to sit. “It's about done steeping.”

Stacker sat. The chair was not what he would have preferred, but it was the best to be had these days. It was padded, at least. Geiszler smiled and sat on the bunk, checking his watch before bouncing back up and lifting the teapot.

The tea was a deep, rich color against the white of the teacup, darker than normal, which meant it had steeped just exactly as long as Geiszler felt he'd like it to.

“Try it without sugar first,” Geiszler said, setting the cup and saucer in front of him. “It's pretty sweet, as black teas go.”

Stacker lifted the cup and sat back, inhaling deeply. Under the sharp ginger was a whiff of fruit and an undercurrent of spice that made his mouth water. He closed his eyes, taking care to thoroughly enjoy the play of scent before taking the first sip.

The flavor was... soft. Sharp ginger, sweet pineapple, a hint of coconut. Exotic, but the foundation of black tea gave it a comforting taste of home.

Tea was something Stacker had resolved to do without after K-Day. Real tea, proper tea, made with due reverence and care, took time and money, and he didn't have either to spare. It was only thanks to Geiszler that he had these rare moments, an hour here or twenty minutes there, something strong before breakfast or soothing late at night. The tea set, the tea itself, the work that went into its making, were all Geiszler. All Stacker had to do was enjoy it.

“How is it?” Geiszler asked excitedly.

Stacker decided against sugar and took another slow sip, relaxing. “Consider my mind blown, Doctor,” he said with a faint smile.

“I told you you'd like this one.”

“Where do you keep finding these?”

“No asking, you agreed,” Geiszler reminded him. “For all you know or care, I'm secretly the Tea Fairy. Do you want me to go? I can pick the set up later if you'd rather be alone.”

Stacker would have found the question needy in someone else, but Geiszler was too unselfconscious for that. No, he would gladly leave or stay dependent entirely on which Stacker would prefer.

“Send Mako here if you see her,” he said at length. “Just if you see her.”

“Got it, boss,” Geiszler said. “I made a full pot, so enjoy yourself.”

He left, and Stacker wasn't surprised when ten minutes later saw Mako at his door. She sat on the bed, fragile cup held in both hands, and neither of them bothered to speak. They simply sat and enjoyed a cup of tea together before Stacker had to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because seriously. Stacker + tea = perfect.
> 
> Preparing food for someone else can be very intimate, especially if it's prepared without direct input. This is Newt confident he knows Stacker well enough to pick out a new tea for him, and Stacker trusting Newt to find something he likes. It's a little thing, but in a world under constant threat of ending, little things can be very important.
> 
> And yes, there will be chapters for the Kaidanovskys and Tendo. ^^


	3. Chuck

Chuck hated Hong Kong as soon as he set foot there. Place was bloody _freezing_. The chill never seemed to let up, day or night. He missed being warm. The only good thing about Hong Kong – apart from the whole putting an end to the Kaiju for good thing – was across the mess hall yabbering at some girl in a techie getup.

Chuck tucked himself deeper into his bomber and held out Max's leash, not taking his eyes off Newt.

“Don't hog 'im all day,” his old man said, taking the leash. “He's got a job to do here, too.”

Chuck just shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off. He didn't need to be told.

Newt looked up and smiled at him. Man was a bit of a dag, but at least he was always happy to see Chuck. “Hey, I gotta go. Tell Hermann not to touch my samples, I know when he messes with my stuff.”

Chuck figured that was as good a conversation-ender as any and grabbed Newt by the wrist, dragging him off toward the door. He used to bother trying to be subtle, until he learned no one would actually care. Newt got up to plenty with everyone else, why not him?

No one in the hallway gave them a second squizz. Chuck didn't know the Dome yet, so he let Newt pick where they went. Two turns and a short walk took them to a room of unpacked crates, which would do for now.

“I never even get a hello from you, you know that?” Newt asked with good-natured exasperation. “Kids these days, they got no manners. Sheesh.”

Chuck let go of his wrist and climbed onto one of the crates, setting his back against the wall. “Just get up here.”

Newt laughed and hauled himself up. “Lemme guess, Hong Kong's not agreeing with you. Come on, let me in.”

Chuck unzipped his coat, trying not to blush. It was still embarrassing, a bit. Just a bit.

Newt shifted and scooted so he was sat nice and cozy between Chuck's thighs, back pressed against his chest like a giant hottie. Chuck leaned forward into the warmth and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Newt.

“Yeah, you're even colder than usual,” Newt noted, wrapping both his hands around one of Chuck's. “Jeez. No wonder you look so grumpy.”

Chuck didn't bother to say anything. Newt liked his own voice plenty enough, and Chuck would rather concentrate on having a source of heat to himself.

“Maybe I should learn how to knit,” Newt continued, working warmth into Chuck's hands. “Make you some awesome gloves. You could wear them under your drivesuit, even. That'd be pretty cool. Ooh, I could make you a sweater! And a matching one for Max!”

Chuck tuned him out. Newt didn't mind. Never seemed to mind much of anything, including being Chuck's body warmer whenever they wound up in the same place for a day or two. Hell, Newt was the one who did it first, months ago, When Chuck had rocked up in his lab bored and freezing. It had just been his hands then, but it'd grown from there until Newt was letting Chuck drag him off and take full advantage of his heat.

“Why are you so warm?” Chuck asked after a pleasant stretch of silence.

“Because you need me to be,” Newt answered. “I mean, what would you even do if I had a _normal_ body temperature?”

“Don't skite.”

“Is that even a word? Seriously, man, I feel like you just make up slang to mess with me.”

“Shut it.”

Newt laughed - Chuck could feel it against his ribs, making him smile - then smothered a yawn. “Hey, is it cool if I nap? I got a little busy last night, didn't have much time for sleep.”

“Go ahead,” Chuck said, shrugging. It gave him an excuse to stay even longer, and secretly? He was glad to be kind of taking care of Newt in return. The little shrimp was always helping him out, along with just about every other soul he saw, but never seemed to take a minute for himself.

Newt nodded right off, and Chuck maybe dozed a bit, too. He reckoned it was an hour or two later and his arse was numb when Newt woke up again, shifting to look down at his watch.

“Shit, I didn't mean to sleep _that_ long. Sorry, dude, I guess you just have a massively comfortable chest.”

“You got somewhere to be?” Chuck asked, reluctantly moving his arms out of the way.

“Yeah, Mutavore's parts are coming in today and tomorrow, and I haven't even cleared space for 'em yet. You still cold?”

“Nah, I'm fine. Get going, groupie.”

Newt twisted and made a face at him before sliding off the crate. “See, I was _gonna_ make you hot cocoa, but now I'm not. So there.”

Chuck snorted, closing his coat to trap as much leftover warmth as possible. “Yeah, and I'm her Majesty the Queen.”

Newt laughed. “Okay, your Majesty,” he said with a really sloppy bow. “If you need me again, I'll be in my lab. Just follow the sound of angry math guy.”  And apparently that counted as an exit line, because he was gone.

Chuck smiled, climbing off the crate and stretching carefully before he headed out, back to Striker and his old man. Hong Kong was still freezing, but at least _he_ wasn't anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically this entire chapter was born of the image of Newt falling asleep snuggled up inside Chuck's coat.
> 
> Some people (myself among them) have naturally low body temperatures, and are thus always cold. Or at least it seems that way. Snuggling is a good way to share body heat, and an excellent example of nonsexual but still physical intimacy.


	4. Hermann

Hermann set down his chalk and rolled his shoulder slightly, trying to ease the ache that seemed to linger there his every waking moment.

“What's up, Hermann?” Newton asked from across the lab, and Hermann sighed.

“Do you have nothing better to do than annoy me?”

“No, not really,” Newton said with a laugh. “You should probably sit down for a minute. You're so tense I feel like  _ my _ back's gonna snap.”

“I am busy,” Hermann informed him, picking up the chalk once more and applying it to the blackboard. “Please go and pester someone else for a while.”

“Aw, but I want to pester  _ you _ ,” Newton protested. “Seriously, you're going to do damage to your shoulder if you keep this up. Take a break.”

“My shoulder is fine,” Hermann snapped, ignoring the joint when it twinged painfully at him.

“Hermann...” Newton whined. “You're going to make me come up there after you, aren't you? It'll be embarrassing as hell if you make me carry you down here. Not to mention dangerous. Do you  _ want _ me to go carrying you around dangerously?”

Hermann put the chalk down with perhaps a bit more force than absolutely necessary and looked over his shoulder. Newton stood at the foot of the ladder with his arms crossed, looking fully prepared to sling Hermann over his shoulder like a stunted ogre and carry him off.

“You coming down, or am I going up?”

“You are a pest,” Hermann informed him, climbing to the ground and reaching for his cane.

“Oh, quit bitching and sit,” Newton said, pulling over a chair and patting it. “Backwards, like a punk.”

Hermann sighed, but decided not to bother arguing. Newton was obstinate at the best of times. He instead arranged himself carefully on the flimsy thing without a word.

“Okay, off with the jacket,” Newton instructed. “Vest, too, Professor.”

“Shall I even bother asking why?” Hermann asked, shrugging off his suit coat. “Hang it up neatly- I don't want you creasing it.”

Newton took the coat and hung it with mockingly unnecessary care. “Well, massage isn't very effective if there's all that cloth in the way,” he said, digging something out of the mess that was his desk. “Come on, strip.”

“You know massage?”

“Why is everybody so surprised when I know stuff?” Newton asked the ceiling with a put-upon sigh. “I got bored going for my third doctorate, so I got a degree in massage therapy to kill time. Now off with your clothes.”

Hermann sighed, peeling off his vest and shirt, wincing slightly at the pull against tense muscles in his shoulders and neck.

“Much better,” Newton said brightly. “Lean forward a bit and close your eyes. I wish I had a proper table, but this will have to do for now.”

There was the sharp pop of an opening cap, then flesh rubbing against flesh. Hermann did his best to relax, not entirely trusting the chair not to tip right over if he rested his full weight against its padded back.

Newton's hands were warm when he laid them lightly on Hermann's shoulders.

“Oh, God, how are you  _ moving _ ?” Newton demanded. “Seriously, I've felt  _ marble _ with more give in it than this.”

Hermann chose not to respond, trying to force himself to relax.

“No, don't do that,” Newton said. “Forced relaxation is a contradiction in terms, an oxymoron, and not a thing that actually exists. Just let me handle this, okay?”

Hermann nodded, sighing. He was already shirtless- there was little point in objecting now, and it might get Newton to leave him be for a while.

"That's the ticket," Newton said, pressing his thumbs lightly against the base of Hermann's neck and moving them in small circles. “Trust me, my hands are made of magic.”

“No, they are not.”

Newton laughed, digging his thumbs in slightly, pressing against the pillar of tension along Hermann's spine. “Not gonna lie, this is going to hurt a bit at first. Trust me, it's worth it.”

Hermann nodded, inhaling sharply as Newton began to work in earnest.

It did hurt, a little, as Newton pressed against sore muscles, relentlessly working them each in turn until they relaxed under his hands. Hermann hadn't realized exactly how tense he'd been until the tension fell away bit by bit, starting in his shoulders and radiating downward as Newton worked.

Newton twice paused to replenish the oil on his hands, each time taking only a moment before he was back at work. His usual bright chatter died quickly, left at a murmured comment here or there as to how Hermann should not rightfully be able to move, given the condition of his back. The pain was likewise over fairly early into the experience, leaving only the warmth of Newton's hands and the laxity of his own muscles to be enjoyed, his mind clear and for once at rest.

Hermann could not have attested to how much time had passed before Newton drew away, speaking softly. “Come on, buddy- let's get you dressed.”

Hermann nodded, making a faint noise of assent. Speaking himself felt like an unnecessary complication.

Newton helped him into his shirt, buttoning it for him as if for a child, then retrieved his jacket. Hermann saw no reason to mention his vest, allowing Newton to guide him through careful stretches before standing. Numbers and equations floated almost lazily back into his conscious thought, aligning themselves properly without the background noise of worry and distraction, and he turned toward his chalkboards.

The silence lasted only a few minutes longer, but the noise was not as grating as it had been, and the work went more smoothly than before.

Hours later, as they both stumbled from the lab in search of proper rest, Hermann thought to mutter and awkward but sincere 'thank you'. Newton simply smiled, patted Hermann on the shoulder, and yawned his way through a sleepy 'anytime, man- anytime'.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massage, like cuddling, can be a great form of physical but non-sexual intimacy. Given his background in biology, I'm sure Newt would make an excellent massage therapist. ^^


	5. Tendo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame feriowind for this chapter. >.>

It was late when Tendo finally made it out of LOCCENT. Like, the kind of late that technically qualified as early. The corridors were mostly empty, what with sensible people having gone to bed hours ago, but there were still a few crazies wandering around, and Tendo intended to join them.

Yeah, he was exhausted, and the thought of bed was a good one, but it was crowded in among all the stress and worry of a very long day during which too little of actual importance got done. Until his mind shut up and let him sleep, there was no point in going to bed.

So wander the 'Dome it was. If he walked long enough, he would tire himself to the point where the mental chatter didn't even register anymore.

He'd barely begun to wander before another pair of feet settled into pace with him, shorter stride and way too much energy for this time of night.

“Hey, Tendo.” Newt said cheerfully.

“Hey, Newt,” he answered, slowing down a bit so Newt's shorter legs could keep up easier. “You finally done for the day?”

“Just starting my day, actually,” Newt said, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as he walked. “Why?”

“Ugh. Your energy is grating, man. Be tired like a human being, will you?”

“Speaking of tired, you look like a zombie. Heading to bed?”

“I wish,” Tendo said feelingly, sighing.

“Feeling restless?” Newt asked, grinning up at him. “I bet I can help with that.”

“You mean you _know_ you can,” he replied, grinning right back. “I know where there's an empty room away from the rest of the zombies.”

“Lead the way, then,” Newt said with a flick of his expressive hands.

Tendo did his best not to walk too fast as he headed for the rooms that, when the 'Dome was at full capacity, would hold extra supplies. They were empty now, nothing in them but the lights, which made them perfect for what they had in mind.

Newt picked the room at random, and Tendo made sure to lock the door before moving to the center of the room and holding out his hand. Newt took it and stepped in close, resting his other hand on Tendo's waist.

“Simple tonight?” Newt asked, and Tendo nodded. “Okay. Ready?”

Tendo nodded again, and Newt began to hum a slow waltz. Tendo led, still fumbling a little right at the outset before he got into the rhythm and settled into the steps.

He still had no idea how Newt had decided he needed to learn ballroom dancing, or where Newt himself had gotten to be such an expert in the art, but it did wonders for his stress levels. Even just humming the right measure under his breath could calm him down sometimes.

He was far from an accomplished dancer at the moment, but neither of their cared. Dancing like this was something that belonged to him and Newt alone. Everything from learning where to put his hands to mastering three different waltzes was strictly theirs, never to be shared.  He teased Marshal Pentecost about it, but he completely understood why the man kept his Newt Time to himself. It wasn't that they were ashamed of it, not by a long shot. It wasn't a weakness to them, or something that actually _needed_ to be hidden- keeping it to themselves just made it that much more precious. It meant too much to them to share it. He didn't judge people who paraded their Newt Time, but he could never do it himself- it was theirs and theirs alone, and it would stay that way.

Newt rested his head against Tendo's shoulder with a contented sigh. “You're thinking too hard,” he said. “Stop it.”

“Can do, brother,” Tendo assured him, smiling, and obediently did his best to empty his mind and concentrate on where he was putting his feet.

Tendo only had the energy for one dance, and Newt had to help him back to his room when they finished. He changed and all but fell into bed, and he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He could really use the rest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this case, the dancing itself isn't that significant; it's the sharing of a hobby, especially one Tendo can default to when he needs something calming, that's the intimate part of this chapter.


	6. Sasha and Aleksis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter is a bit heavier than the others.

Their Newt was waiting for them as they strode into the hangar in perfect sync, with his wide smile and his eager energy. Their little puppy, so happy to see them.

“Hey, you guys!” he greeted them, with a pair of warm hugs to go with his cheer. “Which is which today?”

She laughed, ruffling his hair so it spiked even worse than usual. “I am Aleksis today,” she informed him. Somehow there was much confusion regarding their given names, and the three of them had made a game of the constant mixing up. “You have been well?”

Newt nodded. “Hermann hasn't killed me yet, at least, so I guess I'm doing okay,” he said. “He sends his love and reminded me to remind you that he loves the coat. He wears the thing when it's not even cold.”

Aleksis smiled, nodded. She liked the grumpy mathematician almost as much as her Newt, even if his understanding was lacking in certain areas.

“You are wearing the watch still,” she noted, pointing at his wrist.

“You're wearing the ring,” he returned, grinning as he slipped the too-large watch from his wrist and held it out to Sasha.

Sasha took it and fastened it around his own wrist, where he had removed it seven weeks ago, when last they saw Newt. Aleksis worked the heavy black ring from her middle finger and lifted Newt's hand, slipping it back onto his ring finger where it belonged.

“What would you like today?” Newt asked, expression soft, because this ritual of exchanged belongings was no idle pastime- it was important.

Every ring or bracelet or necklace or belt or shirt that changed hands was a piece of themselves, left behind in Newt's safekeeping or taken with them as a reminder. A reminder that Newt was at their backs, waiting. That though they were wed to each other and without children, they still had family to go home to, whichever Dome they called home that battle.

And should they fall to the enemy, a piece of Newt would follow them to their graves, and a piece of them would stay with Newt, so they would not be forgotten.

The ritual was important, and the choice of what to take and what to leave was not one made lightly. What was exchanged must have value: the watch from Sasha's father, the ring from Newt's first love. Things which could not be replaced. Things that were important.

Aleksis worked off the plain band of her wedding ring and the slightly fancier band of her engagement ring. The wedding ring returned to her finger, lonesome without its mate. “You will keep this safe for me,” she said, pressing her engagement ring into his palm and closing his fingers around it.

Newt nodded, solemn as he fitted it onto his finger. “I will,” he promised, flexing his hand once, twice, settling the ring in place.

The bracelet he gave her in exchange was plain black, nothing special to look at. She cocked her head to the side, regarding it curiously.

“A gift from Hermann,” he explained quietly, smiling. “I'll explain it to him.”

Aleksis nodded. If anyone could explain such a thing to Hermann, it was Newt. “I will guard it carefully.”

Newt smiled, hugging them again, and the crowd which had given them space for their ritual, surged back to its natural flow around them. Newt left them for his duties, and she and her husband continued on their path to Cherno Alpha and her crew, now to display their newest piece of Newt as well as to discuss their Jaeger. Neither time nor war allowed for much peace, and likely they would not see their Newt again until for days. Perhaps not even until they next returned from battle and would again make their exchange of treasures.

The bracelet shifted on her wrist, unfamiliar but comforting.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady Kaidanovsky pretty much covered the important background of this chapter for me.
> 
> I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.  
> /Ten.gif

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real foray into Pacific Rim fic, so concrit is welcome while I work out how to write everyone.
> 
>  ~~I'm also a needy little bitch who lives on comments.~~ /shot


End file.
